I’m not a fiction writer, as much as I wish I was. However, Dottie at Tink’s Place has a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge that I’m giving a shot this week. Thanks to Blodeuedd for bringing my attention to it. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate you post your story on Friday – 350 words, give or take. But when you read mine, remember it’s the first piece of fiction I’ve written in years.
Another Arrow, Another Dead
Carra contemplated the battle still raging in the valley below, just visible through the mist. She nocked an arrow and chose her target. He was one of the few invaders still mounted. Even from her height, she realized that he was a leader, directing his forces as much as possible in the chaos. She aimed deliberately, released the arrow, and held her position until she saw the man fall to the ground. She knew without doubt he was dead.
Quickly, Carra drew another arrow and took aim. She had to keep killing them, one by one, as long as Drew was down there fighting. The war was not hers. He was her sole reason for being in this cold land and she wished that he would just leave with her, go to a warmer place, one where the fighting wasn’t so constant, where they could relax. Carra grinned ruefully while she released the arrow, piercing the man’s armor. It would never happen, she knew. It wasn’t her destiny to live quietly any more than it was Drew’s. They were too good, their services very well-paid for.
Another arrow, another dead.
They had been fighting for years. He had defended her country, a mercenary hired by the King, and when the fighting was finished, she had gone with him. It was her choice, she knew, but at the same time, she had had no choice. She simply couldn’t have lived without him. Did she love him, hate him, did it matter? They were bound together.
She let another arrow fly. She was running low, soon she would be able to do nothing but watch. Until she picked up a new blade, Carra’s only contribution would be with her bow, but her aim was always flawless, a gift from the goddess.
She saw Drew picking his way up the hillside. Hot and tired, with his dark hair in braids down his back, blood staining his sword, he smiled grimly. “We need to go.” And he handed her a dagger, a weapon that would be used again, soon. There was a king she needed to kill and only close-range would satisfy her.